


damn it, wade

by sleeponrooftops



Series: raising webhead: a parenting guide, attempted by the science boyfriends [64]
Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: Language, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:44:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Christmastime, and, even though they said no presents, Peter and Wade have surprises for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	damn it, wade

**Author's Note:**

> Notes —
> 
> i. Hi! Just a rating and warning note—this one is rated up to nc17. You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to, it’ll probably be talked about briefly later, so.

_One week later._

_December, 2028_

Wade disappears Christmas morning.  Peter wakes up alone and mildly disoriented, reaching behind him blindly and frowning when he doesn’t come into contact with another human body.  He sighs, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling.  He blinks, confusion settling over him slowly because he’s still half asleep, but he thinks there’s definitely something on his ceiling.  “Wade,” he whines before lifting a hand and shooting a web up.  He misses the first time, and the second, and then finally gets it, plucking whatever it is off the ceiling and letting it drop down to him.

 

Peter smiles as he sees his own name scrawled in Wade’s messy handwriting on the front of a paper, folded intricately into the outline of a snowflake.  Peter reaches over to his nightstand to grab his glasses, pushing them on before he unfolds the snowflake and slowly reads the note Wade left him, _if you manage to see this, i’m going to be very impressed with you because i know how you are in the morning.  i wasn’t sure if i was invited to christmas morning, so i left?  i’ll be back later, i figure i should stop in and let logan know i’m not dead anyway.  i know you said no presents, but i may have left my favorite sweatshirt in your closet on purpose.  i love you._

It makes him all warm and fuzzy inside when he finishes, and he rolls over to put it on his nightstand and fumble around for his phone.  He shoots a text Wade’s way, _a handwritten note, how classy.  my dad is crazy and makes a big christmas dinner, you should come back in time, i’ll text you the time.  i love you more._

He sends it, stretches, and then gets out of bed, padding over to his closet and rummaging around until he finds Wade’s sweatshirt, tugging it on.  His hair is sticking up in a million different directions when he checks his reflection in the bathroom, and he runs his hands through it, making it a little less unruly, before he sighs and heads out, grabbing his phone on the way when it buzzes.  _impossible, love isn’t quantitative.  logan is trying to make pancakes, and his new girlfriend keeps staring at me creepily._

_his new girlfriend?_ Peter texts back, eyebrows lifting in surprise, _are you wearing the mask?  maybe she thinks you’re weird._

He goes down the hall to Tony and Bruce’s room, knocking and going inside, but their bed is empty, as is the bathroom, so he heads for the stairs at the other end of the hall, reaching the bottom before his phone buzzes again, _yes, i’m wearing the mask, i don’t trust these assholes, especially that dick summers.  and not really his girlfriend, that chick he brought to thanksgiving, jubilee._

_you only think scott is a dick because logan thinks he’s a dick.  maybe she’s hot for you._

_oh, fuck off._ Peter laughs at the last message, dropping his phone onto the island as he hops onto a stool.

 

“Hey,” Bruce says, looking over his shoulder, “Where’s Wade?”

 

“Xavier’s.  Didn’t know if he was invited to Christmas morning cos he’s stupid, so he left.  Is it okay if I invited him to dinner?”

 

“Yeah, of course.  Tony,” he adds, and Peter looks between them worriedly when Tony grunts, takes a few more moments looking through the paper, and then puts it down, looking over at Peter.

 

“I hate when you team up on me,” he mutters, and Tony laughs softly.

  
“We’re your dads, doofus, of course we’re gonna team up on you.  We just wanted to check up on things, see how everything’s going.”

 

“Uh,” Peter says, looking over at Bruce’s back and then to Tony again, “What?”

 

“You know—with Wade.  How is it having him back?”

 

“It’s—fine.  Can you get to the real point and stop being cryptic?”

 

Bruce sighs as Tony grins.  “I told you he was too smart for your approach,” Tony says as Bruce lays out breakfast.

 

Bruce points a fork at him as he sits before turning to Peter, “This is kind of a huge thing, him coming back, and then the two of you getting together so quickly.  We just want to make sure you don’t regret it and aren’t staying with him out of obligation.”

 

“No,” Peter says, and he would be offended if he didn’t understand where they were coming from, “I get why you’d think that, but I’ve waited so long for him to be in my life again, and I haven’t felt this good in—in a long while, actually.  I mean, with another person.  I don’t regret dating Johnny, I really don’t, but he made me feel like absolute shit sometimes, and Wade never has, even before.  To answer your unspoken question,” he adds, turning a deadpan look on Tony, “No, we haven’t had sex yet.”

 

“Everytime,” Tony mutters, shaking his head, “Seriously, it’s like I can’t fool him anymore.  When you were a kid, I could’ve told you the sky was made out of paint, and you would’ve believed me.”

 

“You did tell me that one time, and I did believe you, and Flash laughed at me all day,” Peter says, and Tony holds it together for nearly a minute before he starts laughing.  “You also told me that Ben Grimm was from another planet, that Uncle Thor was the cause of _every_ thunderstorm, and that bearded dragons were real dragons, and I believed all of that.  My bullshit meter for you is so high, I’m surprised I still believe anything you say anymore.”

 

Tony just keeps laughing, and Bruce smiles, shaking his head.  They finish up breakfast, Peter buggers off to feed the menagerie, and then they spend the morning in the sunroom, opening presents and just hanging out.  Peter disappears around four to spend some time in the menagerie, and Wade’s already in there when he pushes the door open, peering into Cooper’s tank.  “Hey,” Peter says as he walks over to him, “Dinner’s in an hour.”

 

Wade just hums and turns, catching Peter around the middle and leaning down to kiss him.  Peter is caught off guard for half a second before he responds, expecting something soft and short, but Wade’s tongue slides out to lick over his bottom lip, and Peter opens to him, hands sliding up his arms and over his shoulders to curl around the base of his bald head.  Wade’s arms around him tighten, pulling him closer, and Peter groans when he licks over the roof of Peter’s mouth before pulling back, teeth scraping over his bottom lip.  “Wade,” he lets out an exhale, opening his eyes and look up at him, trying to _see_ him, but his mask is on, and so he reaches up a hand, tugging it off.  “Hey,” he says, swallowing, “What was that for?”

 

Wade grins wickedly and leans down again, rubbing his nose along Peter’s before he kisses him, harder this time, hands sliding over Peter’s back, one pressing into his lower back, tipping him closer, the other coming to rest on his ass.  Peter makes a noise in the back of his throat, caught between surprise and pleasure, as Wade squeezes, lifting him up onto his toes.  He holds onto Wade’s shoulders, anticipating his next move, and Wade chuckles as he pulls back again, nudging at Peter’s jaw until he tips his head back, letting Wade mouth down his neck.  Peter’s nails dig into his shoulders as Wade’s other hand slides down, passing over to curl around the backs of thighs, and then he’s lifting Peter off his feet.  Peter hooks his ankles behind Wade, both hating and loving that Wade can move him so easily.  He knows he weighs nothing next to Wade, knows that his strength far surpasses Peter, but he rarely uses it to his advantage, and Peter can’t help but admit it’s really turning him on.

 

“Not in here,” Peter mumbles, and Wade breathes a soft groan against his throat, licking a stripe over the tensed muscle there before he bites and shifts Peter.  “Kiss me,” Peter demands when Wade starts walking, and Wade obeys, letting Peter take control, hands cupped around his jaw and tilting his head back, his mouth relentless against Wade’s.

 

He fumbles with the lock pad, swearing and pulling away from Peter to focus, pressing his fingers there because Peter added his prints to Jarvis’ database, and then he’s pushing the door open and laughing when Peter steals his attention again.  They tumble onto the bed, tangled in each other, Peter’s legs still hooked around him, and Wade takes the opportunity, pressing Peter into the mattress, grinding his hips down until Peter throws his head back, gasping.  “Peter,” he says, breathless, nosing at his jaw before he lifts his mouth up to suck a mark there.

 

“Stop it,” Peter snaps, pushing him away, “My _dads_.”  Wade makes an unattractive noise and leans back, looking down at Peter.  “No, not that,” Peter amends, pulling at him, “Just—don’t bite where they can see, okay, or they may just start disliking you.”

 

“Lock the door,” Wade murmurs before he kisses back to Peter’s ear, licking around the shell and then biting softly on the lobe.  Peter’s breath hitches up into a soft whine, his blunt nails pressing against Wade’s suit, one on his shoulder, the other on his arm.  Wade smirks and kisses up to his temple, and then down over his closed eyes, his nose, and back to his mouth until his lips are swollen and bitten.  “Peter,” he says, and Peter misreads his voice, reaching a hand over to shoot a web toward the door, sticking the lock shut.  “No,” Wade says, shaking his head before he buries his face in his neck, “Stop.”

 

“What?” Peter says, and he can hear so much there.

 

“We’re really bad at this whole communicating thing,” Wade mumbles against his skin, and he can _feel_ Peter smile, even though he can’t see him, and his mouth isn’t against his skin, he can just _feel_ the shift in his body.

 

“I’m not a virgin, Wade,” Peter whispers, and okay, he really hadn’t expected that.  Wade pulls back, looking down at him, and Peter sighs, letting his legs disentangle and drop down onto the bed.  “Did you really think I was?” he asks.

 

“I mean—yes and no.  I know you dated Johnny for two years, but I wasn’t totally sure that meant—really?  Wait—wait, you’re saying that for another—Peter.”

 

“Good job, you’re catching up,” Peter says cheekily, patting him, and Wade gives him his most obnoxious glare.  Peter sighs and leans up, kissing him softly.  “I want you,” he whispers when he pulls back, lips brushing over Wade’s, who groans and kisses him again, this time far from soft.

 

Wade runs a hand down his side, hooking it under his knee and pulling his leg back up, and Peter lets his heel settle in the small of his back, tipping his head back when Wade moves above him, hips rocking slowly against his.  Wade takes advantage and kisses down the column of his throat, his other hand coming up to curl around the collar of Peter’s sweatshirt and tug it down so he can mouth down over his collarbone, sucking in the skin there and biting.  Peter’s breath whines out through his nose, and he clutches at Wade, panting.  “Sensitive, webhead?” Wade murmurs, licking over the forming bruise.

 

“Fuck off,” Peter grumbles, and Wade just grins, leaning back onto his heels so Peter’s leg drops back to the bed.

 

“Stay put,” he says before getting up and off, pulling at his suit until he can get it undone.  Peter starts to do the same, reaching for the hem of his sweatshirt, but Wade reaches over and smacks his hand.  “I said to stay put,” he says, and Peter looks at him strangely.  “What, Johnny never wanted to undress you himself?”

 

“No,” Peter admits, “He always said sex was for getting off, and none of that pansy stuff in between.”

 

Wade frowns before leaning down and kissing Peter until he’s gasping for breath.  “I would believe that normally,” he says, straightening again, “But not for you.”  Peter just smiles and lies back, waiting for him to finish.

 

“Oh, look, a modest Deadpool,” Peter teases when Wade finally gets out of the suit, and he’s wearing briefs underneath.  Wade looks over at him, and Peter sees every insecurity flooding in his face, and he reaches for him, pulling him back onto the bed.  He rolls them until he’s on top, and he straddles Wade, tracing a few scars on his chest.  “I don’t care about any of it,” he whispers, and Wade lets out an unsteady breath, “This is me and you, and nothing else matters.”

 

“Okay, Metallica.”  Peter rolls his eyes, but smiles because Wade is back, grinning again despite being spread out beneath Peter, baring every scar, every bit of uneven, misshapen, ugly skin.  Peter leans down, pressing a kiss to his chest, his knees sliding up until they’re near Wade’s ribs, and Wade lets out a low groan, hands coming down to run over his thighs.  “Flexible, webhead?”

 

“More than you can imagine,” Peter says in return, leaning back and licking at his bottom lip.  Wade holds his gaze for a second, not breathing, before he reaches up, pulling Peter down for a bruising kiss.  He starts to turn them, but Peter pulls away, putting a finger to his mouth when he tries to talk, and sheds his sweatshirt, reaching for the hem of his shirt next.  Wade watches him, sighing as the layers come away, and there’s nothing left between them but underwear and Peter’s pajama pants.

 

Wade rolls them, smirking when Peter thuds back against the mattress.  He shifts, mouthing down his front, and Peter lets out a soft noise when he hooks his fingers in the waistband of his pants and tugs them down in one swift pull, tossing them over the side of the bed.  He kneels between Peter’s legs, smirking as Peter groans when he dips his tongue inside his navel and then continues down, biting at his belly before he lets out a hot breath over his cock, tucked away beneath his boxers, and Peter’s hips twitch up just the slightest.

 

“Wade,” he whines, and Wade grins, leaning back and shimmying out of his briefs before he tugs off Peter’s boxers, biting his lip as Peter’s cock settles against his belly, hard and wanting.

 

“Grown up, indeed,” he murmurs, and Peter’s laugh turns into a shout of surprise and pleasure when Wade takes the head of his cock in his mouth, sucking greedily.

 

“ _Shit_ , Wade,” he gasps, hands clenching spasmodically in the sheets.

 

It occurs to Wade that maybe Peter never had this, never had someone love every single little piece of him, that maybe Johnny just took and took, only sparing an afterthought for Peter, and suddenly, he wants to worship him, wants to kiss every stretch of skin he can reach, wants to break him apart until he’s screaming.

 

He slides his tongue over the head of Peter’s cock, and he swears above him, knuckles white and head tipped back.  Wade takes him in farther, relaxing his throat until his nose brushes against Peter’s belly, his dick nudging the back of Wade’s throat, and Peter’s next cry is muffled.  Wade flashes his eyes up to find Peter’s fist in his mouth, and he pulls off slowly, hollowing his cheeks and licking until Peter’s thighs are trembling, and then he releases him, kissing the inside of his knee before he stretches up to pull his fist from his mouth and kiss him down from his high.  “Not yet,” he whispers, kissing his nose, and Peter nods blearily, staring up at him with half-lidded eyes.  He groans at his expression, shifting so his cock slides along Peter’s, eyes rolling back at the contact, and he stays there for a second, trying to catch his breath.  It’s been _so long_ , so long since he trusted someone enough to lie naked with them, and it’s making his head wild.

 

“Can I—can we— _damn it, Wade_ ,” Peter whines, out of breath and shaking.  Wade curls around him, burying his face in his neck, and letting his own heart slow until Peter starts to calm down.  Peter winds his arms around him, leaning his head against Wade’s, and they breathe together until they can both see straight again.  And then Peter says, “I want you inside of me,” and Wade’s really and truly shocked he managed to not come just from that alone.

 

“Peter—”

 

“Just—just _you_.”

 

He’s frozen for a second before he pulls back and looks at Peter, really looks at him, trying to make sure he’s understanding him correctly.  Peter nods at the unspoken question in Wade’s eyes before lifting a hand, thumb tracing over his bottom lip, and he groans softly when Wade sucks the digit in, tongue curling around it.  “The healing factor,” he says, and Wade laughs.

 

“Yes, I’m immune to diseases.  Are you—I mean, have you checked?”

 

Peter nods, “Yeah, right after we broke up.”

 

“Are you _sure_?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Peter—”

 

“Wade, I need you,” he says, and there’s such love and pure adoration in his eyes that Wade can’t do anything but kiss him, squeezing his eyes shut.

 

He pulls back and says, “Do you have—”

 

“Yes,” Peter cuts him off, already reaching out a hand to his nightstand.  He webs it when he can’t reach, and Wade laughs as the drawer springs open.

 

“Take those off,” he murmurs, kissing him before leaning over and plucking a bottle of lube out of the drawer.  Peter hands him his shooters, and he places those on the nightstand before leaning back and pushing Peter’s other leg up so that both are bent.  He curls a hand around his ankle, thumb stroking over the bone, after he lubes his fingers, and he looks up at Peter for a final nod before he slides one finger in, and Peter gasps, muscles fluttering in his belly as his head tips back.

 

He’s so tight, and it makes Wade groan just at the thought of being inside of him when he’s like this.  He stretches him slowly until he’s three fingers deep and he scrapes over Peter’s prostate.  Peter jerks upward, hand slapping down against the mattress, a high whine jumping out of his mouth, and Wade groans, pressing his temple against Peter’s knee and rubbing over it again.  “ _Fucking hell_ , W-Wade,” he stammers, whole body coiled tight, so Wade does it again, just to listen to Peter’s low moan and the way his body twitches, riding high on the little sparks of fire shooting through him.

 

Wade pulls his fingers out and swallows thickly before reaching for the bottle, coating his dick, and then tossing it over the side of the bed.  He curls one hand over Peter’s hip to settle him, and the other he uses to guide himself inside of Peter, groaning long and low as Peter whines beneath him, trying not to move.  When he settles, Wade stretches out along Peter, hands coming up to hook under his jaw, thumbs pressing into the bone by  his ear as he kisses him, long and slow and hard, desperate to feel all of him.

 

“Ready,” Peter mumbles when he pulls back, and Wade kisses him again, easing out of Peter’s body and slowly rocking back in.  Peter moans into his mouth, fingers scrabbling over him until one settles on his shoulder, nails biting into his skin, and the other cups the back of his head, holding him there.  They kiss until they’re both panting and Peter’s feeling a little dizzy, and then Wade tightens a hand around his hip until Peter’s sure he’s going to have bruises, and he arches up into his touch.

 

“Wade,” he whines, matching his next thrust, “Please.”

 

“You—” Wade says, sliding back in hard, and Peter’s breath leaves him, “—are going to be the death of me.”

 

“Just regenerate,” Peter mumbles, and Wade laughs, pressing his face into Peter’s neck and dropping his other arm up by his shoulder, leaning on his forearm as he rocks into Peter, harder on each thrust, picking up speed until Peter is clinging to him, biting back his louder sounds.

 

Wade has never been very vocal, but he can’t help responding to Peter’s noises, moaning against his shoulder, occasionally biting, which always makes Peter’s voice pitch up, which, in turn, makes Wade thrust a little harder, a little faster.  He lifts away from his shoulder to kiss across his chest, pausing to suck a bruise that makes Peter shout, nails scratching over his back, and Wade groans against his smooth skin.  Peter’s fingers trail up over to the nape of his neck, biting in there, and Wade can’t stop the soft cry that leaves him.  He lifts away from him a little, enough that he can reach up to kiss him, and his other hand goes down to grip Peter’s other hip, thrusting shallowly now so that his cock is enveloped in that tight heat.  Peter matches each one, desperate to keep Wade inside of him, keeps chasing after him until Wade is swearing and pressing their foreheads together.

 

“ _Wade_ ,” Peter gasps, thighs tightening against where they’re pressed to his sides, and Wade reaches over, lifting one up over his shoulder, and he slaps a hand over Peter’s mouth as his next shout wavers dangerously close to a scream.  Peter bites his hand, whining, and Wade can feel it all over him, how close he is.

 

“Be quiet,” he pants before he takes his hand back, hooks Peter’s other leg up over his elbow, pressing his hand against the mattress near his ribs, and Peter swears, tipping his head back and biting his fist.  Wade reaches between them, fingers curling around his cock, tightening around the base, and Peter starts swearing at him until Wade feels like he’s going to laugh.  “Just hold on, baby boy,” he groans, laying his head against Peter’s chest, over his heart, listening to the crazy rhythm of it.  He can feel fire licking down his spine, and he slides his hand up Peter’s cock, thumb passing over the head.  Peter jerks beneath him, right on the edge, and Wade moves his hand again, quicker this time until he can hear Peter’s voice in the back of his throat, swallowing down a shout in favor of a loud moan, and he digs his thumb up under the crown, swearing as Peter comes undone between them, shaking and tightening around Wade, legs and ass and the hand on his neck, digging in until Wade feels like he could die happy.

 

He presses Peter into the mattress, fucking into him until he knows Peter’s going to be sore, but he’s right there, so close his vision is white around the edges, and his orgasm hits him like a freight train, knocking the wind from him and shaking a groan out from the dredges of his broken body.  He stills inside Peter, trembling as Peter starts to come down, limbs boneless until Wade releases him, and his legs tumble back onto the bed, shaking.  Wade stays there, cock inside Peter, collapsed on top of him, listening as Peter’s breathing and heart slow, letting his own come down.  One of Peter’s hands rubs over his back and slides down his arm, looking for his hand, and he gives it, letting him lace their fingers together.  Peter brings their hands up to his mouth, kissing Wade’s knuckles tiredly, and then he leans away, kissing Peter on the mouth first before easing out of him, groaning as he flops down next to Peter.

 

“Damn it, Wade,” Peter says, rolling toward him.  Wade tucks him away in his arms, pressing a kiss to his messy hair.

 

He starts to say something, but then there’s a knock on the door, and Tony’s voice floats through, “Hey, so, uh—when you two are done post-coitus cuddling, dinner’s ready.”

 

“ _DAD_!” Peter exclaims, looking over at the door in shock while Wade cackles.

 


End file.
